


Beyond Honor and Houses and Oaths

by Shyspyder



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Reunion, S7E7
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2017-09-09
Packaged: 2018-12-21 22:47:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11954298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shyspyder/pseuds/Shyspyder
Summary: After leaving King's Landing once and for all, Jaime still needs to catch up with someone.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First time writing for these two! I loved Jaime's final scene in the finale, so naturally I had to write a quick thing about it. Thanks for reading:)

The winds of winter blew into Ser Jaime’s face as his horse beat on through the Kingsroad. Though they were only an hour or so into this journey, it was already taking a toll on the poor beast. _I should have stayed behind. I should have gathered more troops_ , he thought desperately. But he knew there would be time enough for all that later. Right now, he needed to get out the city. He needed to get out of the city, and he needed to find Brienne. He needed to warn the northern lords about Cersei’s betrayal. _He needed to find Brienne_. He needed to speak with Jon Snow, find out everything he could about the White Walkers. _He needed to find Brienne_. Like a mantra, he repeated the thoughts over and over in his mind as he continued down the Kingsroad. _Find the lords, find Brienne. Warn about Cersei, find Brienne. Speak with Jon Snow, find Brienne. Find, warn, speak...Brienne._

The winds were growing colder and colder. His horse nickered beneath him. When he felt yet another wind drift through the long grass, he remembered the gloves he had packed away beneath his belt. Grumbling, Jaime paused for a moment, slowing down to a quick stop. Damn this useless hand, he thought. _I was right before. A hook would have been more practical._

He felt a familiar pang when he looked down at his golden hand. He had often thought about his real hand, the one that was lost. Sometimes he wondered where it was. Buried deep within the depths of Harrenhal, no doubt. Rotted away in the bear pit. Yet another memory he visited far too often.

The pit. The bear. Brienne.

_Brienne._ He swallowed. It would only be a few days now before he would see her again. Hours, perhaps. He wasn't sure how much of a start she had before him. A few more hours before he would see those blue eyes of Tarth. He wondered what she would say. If she had thought about him as much as he thought of her. Of the bear pit and his lost, rotting hand.

He didn’t think it possible.

Jaime could feel the cold air drift through his stomach as well. A thrill of excitement ran through him. He looked down at the leather glove that covered his golden hand. A droplet appeared. He frowned, and looked up towards the sky.

Thick snowflakes were falling from the sky. In all the winters he had spent down south, Jaime couldn’t remember the last time he had seen snowflakes in King’s Landing. He blinked when he looked towards the sky. The sky...the icy flakes...they were all so much like her eyes. The icy blue eyes he saw in his dream nearly every night.

Jaime hadn’t expected to see Brienne in the dragonpit. And yet, where else would she be? He would have smiled at the memory, were the situation not so dire. First the bear pit, and now the dragonpit. Those eyes staring desperately into his own as her mouth formed the words, “fuck loyalty.” The last words he ever would have expected from Brienne of Tarth. “This goes beyond honor and houses and oaths,” she had said. And he believed her.

After the disastrous gathering in the dragonpit, Jaime left to go speak with his sister. It was no use, of course. Cersei and Brienne had that in common. They both were so very stubborn. In the end, it was Tyrion who managed to convince her to accept. Tyrion, of all people. But even still, he should have known that it couldn’t have been that easy.

Jaime was lying when he told his sister that he didn’t believe she would order his death. He saw the look in her eyes. It seemed like he saw that look all the time. It was the same look she had given Tyrion when they first set foot in the dragonpit. The same look she gave Daenerys Targaryen. _I should have left King’s Landing a long time ago_ , he thought grimly. _Perhaps it would have been better if I had searched for the Stark girls myself. Yes. I should have left then. With Brienne_. There was no use regretting the past.

Jaime allowed himself one last look at king’s landing. One last, lingering look. _Lady Olenna was wrong. Queen Cersei will not be the death of me_ , he thought. He tore his gaze away from the Red Keep, and looked back towards the northern route of the Kingsroad. _That honor belongs to Brienne of Tarth_.

 

* * *

 

 

As Jaime grew further and further away from King’s Landing, he felt the dread in his stomach sink lower and lower. A part of him wondered if perhaps it was too late for him after all. If once he warned Brienne what his sister had done, she would blame him. _I should have stayed behind a little while longer. I should have gathered what troops I could, and brought them north_ , he thought. _Gods, Cersei was right after all. I really am the stupidest Lannister_. Once more, he thought about the fire in Brienne’s blue eyes when she pleaded with him to speak with his sister. The desperation. _This goes beyond honor and houses and oaths_. He smiled, and moved forward. It was Brienne’s eyes that kept him sane.

The wind was harsher than ever as the skies began to grow dark. He decided that it would be best of him to stay the night at one of the many crowded inns littered alongside the Kingsroad. He looked down at his hand, pulling the glove over the golden edges. He prayed that the smallfolk wouldn’t recognize him, though he doubted that they would. He was far enough away from King’s Landing for that, at least. He shivered and pulled the cloak closer. In the distance, he could see a faint light beating in the darkness, like a beacon drawing him in. The horse grunted beneath him as Jaime steered towards it.

The inn grew closer and closer as the winds grew harsher. After what felt like decades in the snow, he reached the stables, handing off the reins to the tired-looking stableboy. The boy gave him a curious look. “You heading north?” He asked. Jaime looked at the boy. He was a young lad. Not much older than him, when the mad king Aerys named him kingsguard. He winced. Yet another memory he wouldn’t care to think of.

“Aye,” He responded. He turned towards the inn, preparing to fight against the snow once more. At one point, the boy spoke again, but Jaime wasn’t listening. All he could think of was the warm fire that beckoned him forward.

Sure enough, the inn was a crowded place. A bard sat in the corner, singing a sad tale of a maid in summer. The women surrounded him, tears forming in their eyes. On the other side of the inn, men drank toasts to a short winter and told tales of battles. It had been a long time since Jaime had been through an inn like this. To his relief, none took notice when he walked through the doors. He sighed and shook the snowflakes from his blond hair. It felt good to be unrecognized for once.

Then he saw her. And his heart stopped beating.

“Ser Jaime,” Brienne whispered. Her voice was the same. He wasn’t sure why it wouldn’t be, but it was. She immediately stood up, utensils clattering across the table. Podrick Payne was at her side as well, but neither Jaime nor Brienne paid him any mind. The loyal squire smiled down at the pie and gathered the fallen utensils.

Jaime stood there for a moment, unsure what to do with himself. All through the day’s ride, he had pictured his moment in his mind. Not once, however, did he expect her to be at this in. He stepped forward hesitantly, mouth gaping open. He remembered Harrenhal. The day he left. He knew at the time, that he shouldn’t have left her alone. He knew it, and so he returned.

There were murmurs amongst the smallfolk and travelers when they heard her speak his name, but he ignored them all.

Her eyes were the same as well. The same ones that haunted his dreams, the same ones that pleaded with him to talk to his sister. They were looking at him with such surprise. Surprise, but not anger or blame. Only hope and fear and _love_.

“Hello Brienne.”


	2. Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey friends. Back for part two! Not really sure where this story is headed, but I have an idea of how I want the next few chapters to look like, at least. As always, thanks for reading:)

“Ser Jaime,” Brienne responded. Her voice was high and her face was pale, save for the ugly red blotches that had formed on her cheeks from the wind. Her tall, looming figure towered over all other men in the room. Her only fair feature, her blue eyes, were dim from the firelight, almost hidden away. 

She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. 

“Ser Jaime, what are you doing here?” 

He paused for a moment, not quite sure what to say. He had thought about what he was going to say, more often than he thought about why he was going to say it. But being here, in front of her, was completely different matter entirely. He thought about all of the things that he could have said. That he was a complete fool to stay with Cersei. That he should have left with them earlier in the first place. Or perhaps even before that. Maybe he should have gone with her to save the Stark girls. Left this wretched city--and Cersei--behind years ago. Instead, he settled with the truth.

“Cersei was lying,” he began. He paused for a moment, reading her reaction. She furrowed her eyebrows together in confusion. His heart did something painful then, that he chose to ignore. “She was never going to send help. And I...I just couldn’t be there anymore,” he finished weakly. Brienne blinked. For a moment, she looked unsure of what to say, shifting from foot to foot. She looked to her side, as if to speak with her squire. But Podrick had left early in the conversation, whispering a word about tending to the horses, or perhaps to speak to someone about something. Neither of them had cared to pay much attention. Eventually, Brienne nodded. A small smile grew on her face. The kind of smile that she was struggling to hide. 

He sat down across from her, the candlelight flickering on the table. “How did you find us so quickly?” She asked. 

“I’m still not quite sure,” he said. “It was getting dark, you see. And...I don’t know, something  _ told _ me I should stop here for the night, rather than keep for the next inn. So I--Gods, I sound ridiculous, don’t I?”

He didn’t even realize that he was rambling until he saw that Brienne was smiling. “Not too ridiculous.” 

He rolled his eyes, settling in with a sigh. Brienne spoke next. The absolute last thing he expected her to say. “Arya is safe, you know” she whispered. Jaime looked up in surprise. He had forgotten about the other Stark girl. Nobody had heard of her for years. He, like everyone else, assumed that she was dead. 

“In Winterfell?” He asked, dazed. She nodded, the small, wistful smile returning to her lips. “Aye, in Winterfell. Both of them.” He knew about Sansa, of course. She told him herself His heart twisted painfully at their most recent encounter back in Riverrun. He remembered how proud he was when she told him that she found her. The dread he felt when they stormed the castle, and the relief when he saw her escaping down the river. Gods, it felt like years ago now. 

He moved his hands. Slowly, and carefully, so they brushed lightly against her own. They were rough and calloused, exactly as they pictured them in his mind. It was a small gesture, not meant to mean much of anything, but she looked up in shock all the same. He juggled the words in his mind, trying desperately to think of what to say in response. 

“Lady Catelyn would be proud,” he settled with. And he knew by the change in her expression that it was the right choice.

 

* * *

 

Jaime had brought all that he could when he left King’s Landing. But even Lannister gold could only last for so long. And it lasted even less of a time, now that the mines have run dry and the Golden Company have been paid off. Regardless, Jaime tipped the innkeep well.  _ Though with what is coming from the north, I doubt they will have much use for it _ , he thought bitterly. The innkeep glared at him as he headed back towards their spot in the corner. 

He could feel Brienne’s eyes on him the whole evening as well. He knew that a million more questions hung on the tip of her tongue, but he was grateful that she did not ask them. It had been quite a long day already as it was. But strange enough, he felt like he had to tell her everything. About the sept, about Olenna Tyrell’s confession, even about how he tried to kill Daenerys’ dragon. Like he  _ needed _ to. Though he was not for the life of him able explain why. He shifted uncomfortably in the wooden seats under her intense gaze. 

“I am sorry,” he began. 

Once Jaime spoke, he immediately winced.  _ What was it father had once told us? Never  _

_ begin with an apology. It gives them all the power _ . 

Cersei would have known that. 

Cersei would have remembered that lesson straight away, and held him to it. She would have quirked her eyebrow and and let her pink lips turn down. She would scold him for it, and press her lips to his if he argued. But Brienne was not Cersei. Brienne did not read schemes and lies like his sister did. 

And it was a reassuring change. 

“There is nothing to be sorry for,” she said. Voice barely a whisper. “You didn’t know that Cersei would break her word. You did the right thing.” 

Jaime immediately relaxed, as if that was all he needed to hear. 

“Come then, It’s getting late,” she said with a sigh.

they ended up sharing a room for themselves. Podrick in the stables, while Jaime and Brienne took a thin, lumpy bed. They might have been embarrassed, perhaps, but it wasn’t the first time they shared a bed. The roads to and from King’s Landing were a dangerous place, especially for highborns with a recognizable name. It was only natural they go by wife and husband. Though Jaime didn’t miss the burning red on her cheeks before he turned around. 

He wondered if his matched. 

Neither of them dared to move that night, though it was too much for Jaime to dare believe. He had forgotten what it was like, lying so close to Brienne of Tarth. Her soft breath came out in tuffs next to him, and her body radiated a familiar heat.

Even though the winter wind whistled through the windows, she hardly dared to drift closer, nor he. 

It wasn’t that he did not want to. Oh, what Jaime would have given to wrap his arms around her, to breath in her scent and fall asleep the way they were.  _ If it were Cersei, I wouldn’t have hesitated _ , he thought, with sudden realization. Being around Brienne brought out something better in Jaime, than it had with Cersei. He recognized it when they traveled south together, and he recognized it in King’s Landing, for whatever brief time they stood there together. Most of all, he recognized it in her voice. When they stood in the dragonpit, and she whispered to him, “fuck loyalty.” Such an un-Brienne-like thing to say. But even less of a Cersei thing to say. If the tables were turned, he doubted his sister would have risked it. 

Jaime didn’t know how long he lied awake, staring at the mysterious cracks in the ceiling. He wondered if Brienne was asleep too. Somehow, he doubted it, but he didn’t dare ask. Eventually, the ceiling above him became fuzzy, and he drifted off into a restless slumber. 

Jaime never had nightmares. Not when he killed his first man, not when he faced battle... not even when a drove his sword through the mad king’s back. Not once did he lose sleep over his actions. But for the first time in his life, it was more than enough to say that his dreams were becoming unpleasant. 

At first, he saw the dead man, reaching out for Cersei in the dragonpit. Clawed hands grasping and mouth gasping and blue eyes soulless. The blue eyes turned to a fiery green, consuming all of the red keep. He was walking through the throne room, yet somehow untouched by all of it. The dragon skulls littered across, flames seeping out from the eye sockets. Brienne stood in front of him, front facing away. When he called out, she turned around, and he gasped. She was unchanged, save for her eyes. Her Sapphire-blue eyes turned darker...and darker...and darker...until--

“Ser Jaime!” Brienne cried out. Jaime bolted up. He reached to the side for his sword, only then realizing that he was reaching with his golden hand. He cursed and sat up quickly. At some point, a fist collided with his nose, following by a spurt of blood. The pain clouded his vision for a moment. But he quickly shook the blurriness from his eyes. “Brienne!” He searched, fear suddenly rising in his throat.  _ I’ve only just finally reached her. If anything happens to her now _ … 

“Brienne!” He called again. The assailant had his arm around Brienne’s nack, a dagger glinting in the moonlight.

“No!” Jaime gasped. He leaped off the bed and launched himself at the attacker. With his good arm, he reached for Brienne’s sword-- _ She still keeps it on the right-hand side, thank the Gods _ \--and with one quick thrust, sunk the blade through his stomach. 

Brienne stumbled backwards, spitting blood out from her mouth. When it was clear that the man was no longer moving, he raced to her side. Fear sunk in his gut, further than any sword. “Are you alright?” He asked. Brienne nodded, her eyes wide. 

“Was that..?”

“A Lannister soldier, yes,” he spat. Jaime could not believe it. But of course, why wouldn’t Cersei someone after them? He cursed himself, for being so careless on the trek north. For not taking any men with him in the first place. He was so desperate to be in Brienne’s company alone, that he had risked her life in the process. His heart stopped. 

“Jaime,” she whispered. He jerked in response. “Are you alright?”

“I...uh…”

“We have to leave. Before they notice there is a dead man in their inn,” she said. Jaime didn’t say anything, just let himself be led out of room and away from the inn. 


	3. Part Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks. Turns out I'm pretty much incapable of writing a chapter more than 1500 words for this particular fic, so I'll compensate by doing (hopefully) more frequent updates. This chapter is more hurt/comfort. I’ve never really written much of that before, so we’ll see how this goes lol. It’s been a super super stressful week at school, so I opted to ignore my homework and write fanfiction for a TV show that won’t be back for another two years instead, because that’s just who I am as a person. Anyway, thanks for reading :)

The sun still hung low in the east when they left the inn, but it didn’t make them hurry any less. Jaime clung his Valyrian sword with his remaining hand, while the other one remaining useless as they rushed out of the stables. 

“We’re only a few miles from Hayford castle, my lady. We’ll be far enough out of the way from there,” Podrick panted. Jaime frowned. Hayford castle was only but a half day’s ride from the capital. He hadn’t realized how quick he had been to catch up with them.  _ Unless _ ...no. Brienne hadn’t expected him to ride north so quickly. She couldn’t have. Not even he had expected himself to abandon his sister. 

Jaime glanced over at Brienne, scanning her face for any sign of reaction that Podrick had spoken. Small wrinkles had formed in the corner of her eyes and mouth, and dark circles beneath to match the sky. Ones that weren’t as dark the last time he had spoken to her. He winced.  _ How much has been caused by what lies to the north, and how much only by me?  _

Even still, Brienne didn’t appear to be listening. Instead, her eyes were focused ahead. Unblinking, not reacting. Jaime felt guilt eat away at his gut. It was his fault they were attacked. There wasn’t even any question that it wasn’t his fault. That man would have  _ killed _ them. He would have killed her.  _ You should have been more careful, Jaime. At the very least you should apologize _ . The voice in his head rang out loud and clear. Though, the more it spoke, the more it began to sound like the sister he had left behind in King’s Landing. Perhaps his sister’s voice was right. He opened his mouth, ready to spill some quick, half thought-out apology. 

Jaime stopped himself before the words could escape his lips.  _ She deserves better than that _ , he answered the voice. 

“It’s alright,” Brienne whispered beside him. Jaime looked at her, shocked. “You couldn’t have known, Jaime.” No Ser, just Jaime. 

“I should have,” he cut in. His voice was a little louder than he meant it to be, but Brienne didn’t react. He knew Cersei better than anyone. Of course she would have sent a man after him. If the living win, and defeat the army of the dead, she couldn’t risk them having one more commander. But there was a part of him, however small a part, that believed his sister still held something for him. Even if it was just a flicker. A part that still loved him enough to spare his life.

Jaime knew Cersei best of all. He should have known this would not be. 

“Cersei needed me out the way,” he muttered. “At the very least, I should have brought an army north.”

Brienne raised her eyebrows. “She already called her bannermen?” Ah, there is was. The sarcasm. Jaime shifted in his seat, immediately feeling slightly sheepish. He knew she was right, of course. But hearing his thoughts out loud helped him see how ridiculous he might have been after all. 

“Well, no. But the city watch--”

“And you would  _ trust  _ the city watch?”

“All right, you’ve made your point,” he said crossly. 

“It would have taken days for the bannermen to ride to King’s Landing. Time enough for Queen Cersei to poison your drink--not that the bannermen would have answered his call instead of the Queen’s in the first place,” she continued. 

“I could have brought Bronn,” he pondered. He didn’t know what became of the sellsword since he left. No doubt he was halfway to Essos by now with whatever gold he could carry the moment he heard what happened in the dragonpit.

“You could have,” she replied. Unwillingly, he felt a small smile grow on his face. It was a strange thing, to be talking to Brienne again. Even more strange, how  _ easy _ it was.  _ Gods. The world is coming to an end, and I’m grinning like a squire. _

It didn’t last for long though. Jaime watched as Brienne frowned slightly, tilting her head towards the sky. He exchanged looks with Podrick, who looked back curiously.  _ Something’s not quite right _ . “My lady?” asked the squire. 

For a moment, Jaime was brought back to the bear pit in harrenhal. He remembered the blood on Brienne’s arms and chest, when the bear lunged at her. The tight expression on her face was the same as well. And then, it hit him like a runaway horse.  _ Of course _ . Brienne had been the closest to the attacker, the first to wake up. Something must have happened, between when they both woke. Whatever fear he felt for her in the bear pit was nothing to what gripped at his sides now.  _ I didn’t abandon my sister and ride north alone for her to be... _

“Brienne, are you alright?” He asked again. 

Podrick looked up from his seat, alarm in his eyes. “My lady!”

“I’m fine,” she finally hissed back. Jaime stopped his horse. This was more than just anger directed at him. Brienne was not one to hold her resentment. If she had an issue, she made it known. Jaime knew only all too well.  _ Kingslayer _ . She let out a low groan and lurched dangerously in her seat.

“Brienne!” He rushed off his horse, paying no mind when  _ Widow’s Wail _ slipped into the dirt. After the cost of what it took to make sure the sword was within grasp at the inn, he couldn’t care less what happened to it now. 

“I said I’m fine,” she muttered. Jaime didn’t miss the slight burning in her cheeks. _ I’m sure it’s fever _ . He helped her off the horse and into the frosted grass below. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” He was struggling to keep the concern from lacing his tone, but he must have failed, from the glare he received in turn.

“I’ve had worse,” she replied. Jaime struggled to keep his hands--hand--steady as he undid the laces on her sides. Perhaps in another time, another place, his cheeks would have burned to match her own. But all he could focus on was the blood that was already beginning to seep through the thin fabrics.  _ Oh Brienne, why did you not speak sooner? _ He gritted his teeth when she spoke, ignoring the cold dread in his gut from her words.  _ I’ve had worse _ . He did not want to think of what Brienne of Tarth warranted as “worse.” 

He unlaced the final few strings, and pulled open to reveal the wound. He thanked the Gods that it wasn’t a stab wound, but still he must be quick about it. “Why didn’t you say something earlier?” He muttered as he worked. 

Jaime didn’t need to see her to know that she was rolling her eyes. “If I had said something earlier, half of the City Watch would be in the room with swords pointed at our backs,” she replied. Jaime didn’t say anything. He knew that she was right, he just wasn’t quite ready to admit it to himself. 

And in truth, she wasn’t wrong about the severity of her wound after all. So long as Jaime treated it well enough, it would heal. Still, he cast his eyes away from the sight of blood. 

Yet another mystery. Blood had never bothered him much before. Not on the battlefield, not on the road, not even in Cersei’s birthing bed. But the sight of Brienne’s blood seemed to be a different matter entirely. Jaime gritted his teeth in determination and continued working anyway. At one point, Podrick must have recognized something in his eyes, and offered to help. But Jaime knew that he was the best person between the two of them to help Brienne. He had seen far more wounds than Tyrion’s loyal squire ever had. 

“How does it look?” Brienne asked. Jaime didn’t want to admit that it could have been far worse than it was. But even so, whatever guilt he had felt before was magnified ten-fold.  _ I should have watched more carefully _ . Jaime looked up at her, meeting Brienne’s blue, determined eyes. He sighed. It didn’t matter what he said, her answer would be the same. That didn’t mean he could not try. 

“We’ll need to stop at Hayford,” he muttered. “You can’t make it to Winterfell like this.

Brinne scowled, struggling to her feet. Jaime felt his breath catch slightly when a wince passed over her face. “Cersei will find us if we stop at Hayford,” she said. Her face softened a little, when she saw the look of guilt that must have passed over Jaime. 

“You’re right,” he said, reluctantly. He helped he back onto the horse. Every time a pained look passed over her face, he felt his breath grow a little shallower. Podrick was staring at Brienne as well, fear in his eyes. “At the least, we’ll need to get off the Kingsroad.”

She nodded in agreement. “I suppose so.” They didn’t say anything, for a time. Just rode in silence. Jaime kept his gaze ahead, but he watched Brienne from the corner of his eye all the same. Every time she let out a gasp or shifted in her saddle, he felt a rush of panic. He wanted nothing more than to stop at an inn for a few days, Cersei’s men be damned. But a part of him, a big part, knew that Brienne was right. They needed to get back north, and quickly. 


End file.
